Confined Spaces
by 1822andallthat
Summary: Kate's wall around her heart meets its match within the confines of more solid, tenacious walls.
1. The Stakeout, part 1

**Confined Spaces**

* * *

><p><strong>The Stakeout, part one<strong>

Kate's been gone for a while now and Castle is growing fidgety inside the surveillance van. She said she wanted to take a quick walk around the block, get the feel of this area where the crime rate has skyrocketed these last few months, take in the environment should they have to run after a suspect later on. He thinks it's very unlikely it will come to that but he's got to admire her professionalism, her focus, the way she always thinks ahead. Unless of course said professionalism puts her in the way of inordinate danger, in which case he has a whole long list of objections to her thorough attitude.

He reaches for his phone in his pants pocket and checks the time but she's only really been gone for fourteen minutes, and that's just three more minutes since the last time he looked. That's the way it's been with him lately. He can't help worrying about her. He knows it's all kinds of wrong, bordering on unhealthy. His behavior is clearly disproportionate when it comes to her – sometimes his heart is too full, his feelings flow over the brim – but although it's not something he can easily keep under control, he could beat himself up for overreacting.

He's long known, after all, the danger inherent in her job. He understands it, accepts it. The job is part of who she is and, paradoxically, he wouldn't have it any other way. Would they even have met if she had been, say, a lawyer? A lecturer in Russian literature? But the concern – always present in the dark recesses of his mind – it gnaws at him, it draws blood, feeds off his most intense feelings and eats him alive whenever he's at his most vulnerable, whenever he's without her.

He's her partner, so he should do what partners do, have her back, build up theories, bring her coffee and food. Donate his heart to her for a transplant when hers has been blown up in an explosion, frozen to a stop, smashed to smithereens by a bullet or ripped out of her chest by a tiger. Yeah right, maybe that goes beyond the original job description, but he loves her, and he can't help that either.

She's been through pretty tough times and lately she's been dealt more than she can handle. She's been known to recklessly follow a hunch and go places without backup – without him. Not that he considers himself proper backup material, but he would at least be able to help or call for help. Give his life for her.

He's seen the effects of her sleepless nights, the dark shadows underlying her eyes, that she hides from the world under carefully applied layers of make-up. That she can't hide from him.

He saw her die a few months ago. Could have been yesterday – the timeline is irrelevant. Losing her, unthinkable.

He could probably just send her a text and puts his overactive mind at rest but he doesn't want to risk annoying her. He has no doubt she likes that he cares – she lets him know with a hand on his lapel, in the brightness of her smile that is just for him – but she won't have him fuss over her. That's unacceptable. And frankly, they've covered so much ground recently, made so much progress towards acknowledging their connection for what it is, that he is unwilling to do anything – anything at all – that would cause her to step back. So he is careful not to cross the line between caring support and over protectiveness.

He decides against texting her. Oh, he will, in a little while, if she doesn't show up, something light and witty, inappropriate perhaps, that will induce an eye-roll and elicit a smile. Which she will try, but fail, to conceal. It will be so them.

Instead, Rick glances through the tinted windows of the unmarked van. Kate is nowhere to be seen but to be fair, the view is hampered by the traffic and the heat, unusual for this month of the year, is enveloping New-York in a veil of silk, and all things great and small seem to be silhouetted against the hazy blur draping the city.

The door that abruptly slides open has Rick snap out of his trance. A wave of relief washes over him, fresh and healing, as Kate steps into the van. He blinks against the sudden glare of brightness assaulting his eyes through the open door but even as she shoves it closed, the semi-darkness that seemed to surround him before has lessened, losing the fight against the beams of light that filter through the cracks of the vans and which were there all the time but somehow went unnoticed. The demons recede instantly in her presence. Everything is more luminous in her vicinity.

Kate herself is dazzling. Her hair is a little disheveled and her cheeks are flushed from running in the incongruously hot weather. He's thinking he'd like to kiss the healthy glow into an aroused blush when his eyes are attracted South, to her still slightly heaving chest and to the trickle of sweat dripping down under her purple T-shirt and losing itself between the soft curve of her breasts, and at this moment, there's nothing Castle would want more than morph into this patch of delicious moistness.

"Castle!" Kate calls him out of his thoughts of attempted transfiguration.

His eyes travel back up to hers and he knows he's been caught staring. But her rebuke sounds half-hearted and she's still a little breathless – from her run? And anyway, there should be a law against looking so damn hot in a NYPD surveillance van. He takes a mental photograph of her, which he stores away for later perusing under the ever-growing file he named "hot_Beckett_looks" (for purposes of clarity).

"You look hot." The words are out before he can call them back, eight free-spirited impish phonemes with a will of their own that won't accept restraint as an option.

_Oh great. He walked right into that one. Doesn't even need help._

And the cute rosiness on Kate's cheeks – though she might shoot him for calling it that – is back with a vengeance as she draws her lower lip between her teeth, but she says nothing, like she is caught in the headlights of his stare.

"I mean, outside. It's hot outside. The weather."

Lame. Clumsy. Awkward. Best-selling author reduced to two-year old child struggling with his first words.

_Shut up castle, why don't you? Just. Shut. The. Hell. Up._

But Kate seems to have recovered and is now sitting next to him on the bench, controlled and self-confident. She nudges his right arm with her elbow and… _is that a smirk on her lips, her beautiful, ripe, oh-so-kissable lips?_

And her voice, when she speaks, leaning into him, is low and sensual like the heady scent of the grass after a shower in the summer heat.

"And it's really, really, hot inside this van too, Rick

Castle is petrified, rendered speechless. Couldn't pick up his jaw off of the floor to save his life. He doesn't stand a chance against the sultry way she draws out her vowels and exhales air on the "h", lingeringly, aiming it straight at his lips, as his own breath hitches and he's suddenly in dire need of her kiss of life.

_Hang on. Rewind._

_Rick. She called him Rick. She hardly ever does. The damn tease._

_She knew exactly the effect she would have on him saying his name – his first name – with this voice. With these lips._

Okay. It's a draw.

Castle shuffles uncomfortably on the bench. He's sure the windows are steaming up and he raises a finger to the glass to check his theory but it involves moving his body to the side too and he changes his mind, shoves his pointed finger into his pocket and digs it painfully into his hip to try to leash his wayward body back under control and ease out the too tight fit of his pants. He chose to wear jeans this morning over dress pants because he thought casual clothes would be more comfortable on a stakeout. Count on this gorgeous, extraordinary, exasperating woman to prove him wrong.

Right now he wants to tug her into his body and reduce the distance between them to nothing, melt her into him on the dirty floor of the van, the NYPD van, during work hours, it doesn't matter, nothing matters anymore but to kiss her mouth into oblivion, kiss her everywhere, translate into body moves the strength of his love. He can hardly contain the urgency of his longing, the need to growl her name –

"Beckett."

_Wait. That's not his voice. That's Ryan's. From the two-way._

_Oh God. Close save._


	2. The Stakeout, part 2

**Confined Spaces**

**The Stakeout, part 2**

"Ryan." Kate clears her voice. "What do we got?"

Castle could swear her timbre is a little hoarse, and not that he wouldn't write poetry on her every inflexion, pitch and lilt, but right now he really needs to focus, so he'll buy her some throat meds instead – that and a grammar lesson or two.

"The girlfriend's on her way home. ETA two minutes. The suspect's not with her though." Ryan sounds apologetic. The stakeout was Kate's idea and they have a lot running on it. They've been on the case for three days and they need a breakthrough. So far, they have a suspect but no substantial evidence, and a fabricated alibi that needs to be broken. If it all comes to nothing, Gates will be furious and although pretty much everyone feels they are on the wrong side of her on any given day, no-one wants to end up in the crosshairs of the Captain of the 12th.

Kate picks up Ryan's undertone. "It's okay Ryan. The neighbor said he usually drops by a little after she comes home."

Kate ends the communication with Ryan and directs her attention to the screen. The static image isn't great but then again the building's security camera isn't exactly state of the art. At least, it offers an unrestricted outlook over the neat row of mail boxes in the lobby.

The slightly hazy black and white image from the security camera seems to ground Castle. He stares it out like it's some kind of perp that needs to be cracked open and dares it to resist his scrutiny.

His need is no longer liquid fire raging through his body, devastating and unforgiving. Its more ragged edges are blurred, its more physical aspects subdued, and while this quiet longing is just as deep and all-encompassing, it's also easier to rein in; it can be shaped into a more acceptable form and only be let out in the open under the guise of caring friendship.

Sure enough the girlfriend appears on the screen when Ryan said she would and they watch her walk into the lobby and jerk her way to the mail boxes along the wall opposite the security camera.

She unlocks the one before last box on the right side, reaches into it and retrieves something – a wad of letters? A small package? Castle can't quite make out what it is, but it could be drugs, right? There was always a possibility the case was drug-related, wasn't it? Or she could just be checking her mail before going up to her apartment, but where would the fun be in that?

Kate, who claimed the seat in front of the computer, moves her body forward towards the screen as if that might provide her with a better view, and Castle feels his head inching towards her, his body heat attracted to hers like a magnet. For all he knows, (and the theory appeals to his overactive imagination), he could be under the spell of a mysterious, invisible superpower, except that the name of the force that holds him captive is no mystery and his life is no blockbuster sci-fi movie.

Castle is on his way to probable collision with Kate's cheek when he feels her slight movement of surprise and he stops in his tracks to see what caused her to jolt back on her seat and open her eyes wider: their main suspect's girlfriend is now unlocking a second, then a third mail box, and their contents seem to be similar to that of the first box. Looks like they now have a valid justification for a search warrant on the mail boxes and the apartment.

His body drifts back to hers (and the computer screen) but this time, he doesn't stop shy of her skin and when his cheek brushes against her left ear, he reflexively holds his breath and closes his eyes against the expected tug of her long fingers on his own ear.

It is not usually a pleasant feeling. She has developed her skills to perfection and knows precisely how to twist the unfortunate appendage on the receiving end of her attention and exactly what pressure to apply with her nails. But a touch is a touch and while the kind of touching he has in mind where she is concerned is of a more pleasurable kind, he will suffer the indignity of slightly abusive treatment, he will relinquish all pride.

No twisting, pinching or tugging comes his way however and he flicks his eyes open in astonishment, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question when it's clear that she is not going to retaliate or initiate any sort of revenge of her own.

In lieu of a frown and a rebuke, she gifts him the secret smile of her lips and the feather touch of her fingers on his forearm. Her sparkling eyes are full of knowledge.

And when she speaks, her voice seems to be coming from afar and there's an indistinct quality to it through the dysfunctional media of his befuddled brain.

"Is it enough Castle?" she seems to be saying.

And his heart misses a beat as she meets his startled gaze because she's echoing a conversation he had with his daughter a few months ago and she wasn't privy to that so how could she possibly guess the significance of these words for him? Did she even say them? He can't be certain anymore and anyway he can't think in this stifling heat. He needs salvation in the form of a glass of fresh water or of a kiss of her lips.

"Castle," she repeats louder in the face of his stunned look. "Can you see well enough?"

"Not quite. Can you work on a… er… – on _the_ resolution?" And he doesn't know which question he is answering here but Kate sounds unfazed.

"I'm trying," she says, and her sigh of impatience is directed at herself, at her inability to be better, faster. "I'm doing my best" she adds, attacking the screen with a frenzy of mouse clicks.

Castle stills her hand with a gentle squeeze of his fingers.

"Don't worry, Kate. Whatever you can do, it's enough for now."

She graces him with that tight-lipped, unguarded smile that soothes his heart and slays his demons, and he thinks maybe they were on the same wavelength after all.

Castle redirects his attention to the video just in time to see the mail box enthusiast heading to the elevator. She moves awkwardly as she balances her harvest from one hand to the other but manages to keep her load safe by holding it tight to her chest.

As the elevator door slides open and she disappears into the cabin, Castle hands Kate a pair of headphones and grabs another for himself. The headphones were on her side of the table and he is a little surprised at her lack of reactivity.

Well, not surprised exactly. To be honest, he is glad he beat her to the headphones. If he is not very much mistaken, he's just caught her gazing unseeingly at the computer and he wants to blame her lack of focus on their recent exchange – he wants to believe the subtext overwhelmed her as much as it affected him.

"Oh. Headphones. Yeah. Thanks Castle."

_Yeah. The fair detective is clearly flustered –_

"So Castle, this is your darkest fantasy coming true, isn't it? How does it feel?"

–_but the fair detective makes fast recoveries._

She is teasing, he can tell by the mischievous gleam of her eyes, but that doesn't make him any less confused.

_His darkest fantasy? Surely she doesn't know about the dark-haired, blue-eyed babies that people his dreams night in, night out, does she?_

"The headphones, Castle. I thought you'd be beyond excited to be playing spies with me at last," she grins. "But maybe you've finally grown out of the phase and the game no longer appeals to you," she adds with a shrug and raises her hand to his headphones to take them from him.

He brushes her fingers away and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Detective, I'll have you know that I will never outgrow any game – spy or otherwise – where you might be a willing participant."

She gives him a light-hearted, playful version of an eye-roll and seems about to give him a bit of her own back when they start hearing some crackling sounds over the white noise in their headphones. A door slams shut and straight after that there's the ringtone of a cell phone. An unimaginative four-letter curse word follows as they hear the sound of objects tumbling down on the floor, and then the suspect's girlfriend answers her phone.

Kate immediately switches back to her professional self, raises her eyes to Castle's and holds his gaze as if asking for reassurance that he is right there with her and centered on the case.

Castle stares right back at her, silently communicating his availability for whatever she needs him for.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly.

Her serious expression mirrors his to a T and there's no mistaking the intensity of her voice when she answers with those two words which are nearly those he so badly wants to hear her say to him one day.

"I am."

She sounds committed.


End file.
